


Bait for the Trap

by joyfulfeather



Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Invasion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyfulfeather/pseuds/joyfulfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy has faced off with alien princesses before -- he's even dating one -- but since this one is the ruler of a conquered Earth, the stakes might be just a little higher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bait for the Trap

The bar was a crappy little dive, a dingy building scoured by sand and desiccated by the total lack of humidity in this part of the country. Roy'd been in plenty of places like it back when he was still drinking. It wasn't the kind of place he oughta be _now_ , if he had a choice. The smells, the people, the drinks – they didn't change, no matter what city, state, or country you were in. Being there felt kind of like home. Which was the stupid kind of thought that made his friends roll their eyes and call him an idiot. Also the kind of thought that meant he should call his sponsor, but Waylon hadn't been heard from since the invasion went down.

Roy sat at a table nearish the bar, his back to the wall, a glass of water in his hands. Plenty of people were drinking harder stuff – alcohol wasn't exactly legal these days, but that hadn't stopped anyone during prohibition, right? He watched the room from beneath the brim of his baseball cap. He wasn't anybody, just some guy in a faded flannel shirt, scraggly red hair only sort of contained by the hat. Most of the other people in there didn't give him a second glance. The ones who did, he made mental note of.

A slow trickle of people kept coming through the door in ones and twos, filling up the place. At 10PM, the door closed. The room got quiet.

The bar's proprietor was a man named Jackson. He wasn't a pretty guy, between the thin gray hair and the skin that looked as battered as the building he owned. The guy had a presence, though, the kind of thing that made you pay attention. There was a reason he was the head of the resistance in the southwest region.

“Brooks and McKenna were caught in Phoenix two weeks ago,” he said, not bothering with small talk. “Some god-fearing citizen turned them in. They were burned.”

Mutters and upset noises went around the room. Roy closed his eyes for a second. He'd seen a burning once. Someone he knew – not a friend, but a contact. He'd been there to meet up with her, and instead, he got there just in time to see the Prior light the fire. It was the kind of thing you didn't forget.

Jackson waited a second, then went on. “Miller and two of his people tangled with a squad of Ori soldiers outside of Santa Fe. And one of Mac's people up in Reno has gone missing.”

Translation: The trio in Santa Fe were dead. At least with soldiers, they'd probably had decent deaths. The guy in Reno... He was either dead or wished he was. Anyone he knew was going to have to split, if they hadn't already. Reno'd have to be off-limits for a while. _Damn._

“We have had some victories,” Jackson said. “Group down in Yuma blew a weapons depot. Took out a couple squads of soldiers along with it. No casualties on our side.” His face was mostly rock-like, but there was a little satisfied curve to his mouth. “Not to be completely outdone, Santiago's people in El Paso destroyed a burning circle and captured a couple officers. Got some good intel on movements in the area.

“As for the rest of the country: west coast is holding steady. Northwest is having trouble – Seattle's still reeling from the death of Oliver Queen two months ago.”

Roy's jaw tensed. He dropped his gaze to the table, trying to breathe through the iron band closing around his chest. Oliver Queen's death was still an open wound in his gut. God knew he and Ollie hadn't been on the best terms, but facing down an alien invasion had a way of bringing people together. They'd been getting past it. Now... they wouldn't get the chance.

He shook his head sharply and focused on Jackson's voice. He missed what the man said about the Dakota region, but he knew they'd been causing trouble for the soldiers in the snow. Meanwhile, the gulf coast and the south were holding steady.

“Midwest and Northeast are quiet, for the moment,” Jackson finished.

Then he paused. His eyes swept the room, keen eyes not missing anything. “Gotham's got a plan.”

The tension in the room jumped. Everyone's attention turned sharp, aimed like an arrow straight at Jackson. The guy didn't so much as blink. “I don't have details,” he said, voice as steady as ever. “Don't need to. But this could come down anywhere. Could come down on us. If it does, our job is to stay calm and stay out of the way. I know,” he said, raising a hand to stop the people who'd started to object. “It's not what you signed on for. You signed on to fight, and that's what we've been doing.” His gaze swept the room again. “A year and a half, we've been fighting. These Ori soldiers know damn well that this world isn't theirs yet, and it never will be. We push back. We make 'em pay for everything they've taken from us.

“But it's not enough. This plan, it comes from the best we've got. Batman and his team. General O'Neill and his team. They tell me that if this works? It'll change things. Maybe change everything. So us, we're going to do our jobs. We keep fighting, and if something goes down? We. Get. Out. Of. The. Way. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be the one to fuck up our best chance. You get it?”

Roy watched the room at large. Plenty of unhappy faces, a lot of concerned ones, and a few who looked relieved. Personally, he thought the first group was dumb, the last group was smart but not cut out for the dirty parts of this resistance thing, and the middle group was smart without any qualifiers. Getting told that the might of the Ori soldiers might fall down on your head and you were supposed to _stay calm_ was going to make any sensible person worry.

And hell, some not-so-sensible people, since Roy was kind of worried, too. On the other hand, he was also excited, which went back to making him an idiot. That wasn't anything new. If he'd been smart, maybe he wouldn't have convinced Jason and Kori that they all needed to leave their cozy private island and go help Bats fight the bad guys. If he was smart, maybe he wouldn't be running around the country on Batman's say so. But here he was, and that combo of brains and idiocy was exactly why Bats had sent him here.

Jackson kept talking, but Roy tuned him out. He waited. The tension in the room gradually decreased and shifted; they weren't thinking about Gotham anymore, but their own regions, their own missions. Intel gathering and targets of opportunity, things they were used to. A year and a half, and these people were used to fighting this war. Sure, some of them were ex-military or cops, but a whole lot of them were civilians. Normal people who used to go about their daily lives without fighting anything more than a parking ticket. Those people impressed the hell out of Roy.

A knot formed in Roy's stomach. He'd lied to Jackson. Oh, most of what he'd said was true. Gotham had a plan, and these people's job was to stay low. But when he'd said that it could come down anywhere, that it _might_ come down here? That was a lie.

The door slammed open.

Heads whipped towards the door. When the first soldiers came in, all other movement in the room stopped. Nobody _breathed_. An entire _squad_ of soldiers stomped inside, decked out in in that armor that looked totally medieval but would stop nearly anything. The squad leader took off his helmet and scanned the room. Even here, even with these people, he'd see what he'd see anywhere: fear, hatred, the sudden need to change underwear. There were plenty of people in the world who'd fallen in line with the Ori troops. They obeyed the rules, they followed Origin and worshiped the Ori, they were mostly comfortable with the soldiers who patrolled their cities. Even _those_ people would freeze if soldiers burst into a place like this. They'd know that their lives could be forfeit if someone had accused them of heresy or if a squad leader or Prior wanted to make a point.

Roy watched the room out of the corner of his eye. No one moved. No one spoke. Not even Jackson, still behind the bar. His hands didn't move towards the weapons Roy knew were hidden within easy reach. He waited. They all did.

Apparently satisfied, the squad leader stepped sideways and turned towards the door.

A beautiful brunette entered the building.

Time froze. Hearts stopped beating. _Adria_. Everyone there knew her face. Everyone _in the world_ knew her face. She'd made sure of that. The government-run news stations featured her speeches almost exclusively. Banners of her were displayed in every city. Remote tribes that had never had contact with the outside world were rounded up and brought to the nearest city where they'd been made to bow to her. She was the Orici, the worldly speaker for the Ori, and the ruler of Earth.

Her cold eyes pierced every soul there. Her voice was like ice-cold flame. “Where is Roy Harper?”

No one so much as glanced in his direction.

Adria's eyes narrowed. “If you don't give him to me, my soldiers will burn this place to the ground.”

That was enough. “Alright, you got me.” Roy pushed himself out of his chair and rounded the table. “I'm Roy. Nice to meet – urk,” he said eloquently, his voice getting cut off mid-sentence. Choking was not a good feeling. Neither was having his body pulled forward and dragged to his knees beside the row of barstools.

The alien queen – or whatever title she wanted to take, he didn't care – took a few steps towards him, stopping only a couple feet away. She looked down her nose at him, cold but calm. “Did you really think you could hide from us?” she asked, her voice carrying to the entire room. “No one and nothing remains hidden from the Ori. They see all.”

Roy coughed. His vocal cords seemed to be working again, so he said, “Funny it took you so long to find me, then.”

Adria smiled coolly. “I have had matters far more significant to handle. But I wanted to be here when the infamous Arsenal was brought to justice.” She looked out into the room, at the people still motionless in their seats. “This man destroyed the shipyard in Ohio. He killed not just my people, but scores of humans from Earth. This man is _not_ a hero.”

“No kidding.” Roy gave a lopsided grin. “Never claimed to be, princess. Oh, and by the way, I'm dating this other space princess who is way hotter than y--” And there went his vocal cords again. Ability to breathe, too.

“Silence!” Adria definitely wasn't pretty when she was angry. “Your impudence will earn you nothing.”

Nothing except for a force choke, which was kind of impressive and was also starting to make his vision sparkle. She lifted him off of his knees by that choke, which hurt like hell.

It was, however, useful.

He didn't have much control over his own body, which sucked. Thankfully, he didn't need much. Just two fingers. He found his target, narrowed his focus, and flicked those two fingers.

A teeny black object hit her square in the neck.

At first she didn't react any more than you would to a mosquito bite. Then she did a double-take, probably because she'd never been bitten by a bug in her life. Her hand flew to her neck, her eyes going wide. “What --”

If she finished the sentence, she did it somewhere else. A beam of light enveloped her and when it blinked out, she was gone.

Roy collapsed. Soldiers shouted. People scattered. Outside, something exploded.

Roy grinned up at the ceiling, then rolled his head to the side so he could see the action start. Getting his breath back was way less important than watching the arrival of the cavalry.

And yeah, two people totally counted as the cavalry.

Guns fired, loudly and rapidly, and soldiers fell fast. Half a dozen were down before the rest could get their weapons up. Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, darted inside, dodging blasts from the soldiers' weapons like they were nothing. Three went down under his feet and fists. The remaining three were blown away, no muss or fuss (but plenty of mess). The entire squad that had come inside was dead or unconscious in under a minute, and Jason's jacket wasn't even singed.

Roy let his head fall back and closed his eyes, chuckling weakly. The chuckling became giggling, and it wouldn't stop. His shoulders shook with it, and shook and shook.

There was another explosion outside. Roy heard Jason's booted footsteps on the wooden floor, coming towards him. “Did you hit your head?”

Roy waved a hand. “Hypoxia,” he managed to get out through the giggles. “And, you know. It _worked_.” He cracked his eyes open. “It did work, right? She's gone?”

“Looks like it.” Jason extended a hand down to him. Groaning, Roy took it and let himself be hauled to his feet. The giggling finally subsided enough for him to breathe, so he focused on that for a minute.

“Kori's mopping up the two squads left outside,” Jason told him, taking off his helmet. His eyes raked down Roy, checking out the damage. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Roy rubbed at his neck. “Telekinesis probably won't leave a bruise, but my neck hurts like a bitch.”

Jason snorted. “Whiner.”

“Whatever.” Roy finally gathered his brains back enough to remember where they were. He looked around, a little startled to see how empty the place had gotten.

“They scattered,” Jackson supplied from behind the bar. Roy blinked at him. He hadn't even realized the barkeep was still there. Jackson shrugged in response to the unspoken question. “It's my bar; where would I go? Those other folks have places to be. Better they get out while the soldiers were otherwise occupied.” He paused. “They're not going to be too friendly with you for a while. Gotham either.”

Roy winced. “Yeah. I'm sorry about that. Batman's orders.”

“He's kind of a dick,” Jason interjected.

“So I hear.” Jackson sighed. “Can't say I find it endearing, but at least you didn't destroy my bar, and none of my people were hurt. Thanks for that.”

“Anytime?” Roy hesitated. “You're not going to ask --”

“No way. I'm curious, sure, but I don't need to know where she went. I'm not sure I even _want_ to know.” Jackson shook his head, looking tired. “You Gotham folks play at a way higher level than I ever will or want to. I can't handle things like this. Don't want to. The stakes are too damn high.”

“You're a good man, Jackson,” Jason said unexpectedly. “We play for high stakes, but you take care of your people in a way we never could. I'm glad they have you.”

It was subtle, but Jackson's back straightened and some of the lines on his face eased. He silently nodded his thanks.

Jason's eyes flicked to the soldiers lying around the entrance to the bar. “Sorry for the mess.”

Jackson shrugged. “I've had worse after a brawl. Go on, you two, report back home. I'm sure they'll want to hear the good news.”

Roy slung a companionable arm over Jason's shoulders as they left. “Sometimes I forget you know how to talk to people who aren't trying to kill you.”

Jason gave him a withering look. “Bite me.”

Roy grinned.

Outside, a couple cars were on fire and a cactus was burning merrily. The bar's front wall was kind of singed, but it just added character. Oh, and there were bodies liberally scattered around. Kori showed up from somewhere, dropping out of the sky in a blaze of benign fire. “Success?”

“Yep.” Roy promptly slung his other arm around Kori's shoulders, hugging her close. It was just possible he was still riding high on a mix of victory and hypoxia. Kori sighed, but he figured it was more fondness than resignation, since she leaned her head briefly on his shoulder.

Jason eyed him sidelong. He hadn't bothered to shrug off Roy's arm, either. “Yeah, Roy got her with the homing device. Now we just get to hope the League and Homeworld Security manage to _do_ something with her and she doesn't just destroy whatever ship they teleported her to.”

“Yeah well, even if she does, it won't be our problem.” Roy shrugged as best he could with both arms occupied. “We did our job tonight, with _zero_ civilian casualties. That's a win, guys.”

“He's right,” Kori told Jason. “It would be nice to celebrate.”

“Exactly.” Roy turned his grin on Jason.

He sighed, but Roy could see the hint of a smile there. “Alright, we celebrate. But no bars, and no ice cream.”

Roy hesitated. “Maybe just – a night on the island?” It didn't seem right to suggest it, somehow. People all over the world were being subjugated, were fighting and dying for their right to freedom. Getting away from it, even for a night, seemed selfish.

But when he said it, some of the tension in Jason's body relaxed. Kori pressed her face into Roy's shoulder. “That would be nice,” she said quietly. Jason nodded agreement.

On second thought, maybe it wasn't selfish. Not when his teammates were getting burned out. He was, too. So they'd go recharge for a night. Dig their feet into the sand and listen to the ocean. Then they'd go back to Gotham, to Batman and his plans and the missions that could kill them at any time. The resistance deserved their best, and after a recharge, they'd be able to give it.

Roy felt something inside himself relax, too. He hugged his friends close. “Let's go home.”


End file.
